


Ambiguous

by americalovesthecockpit



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Other, Sheep, Smut, lulz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-16
Updated: 2012-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-07 20:37:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americalovesthecockpit/pseuds/americalovesthecockpit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Zealand is very lonely and has sex with England in a barn. The sheep watch. But here's the thing. You know how we still don't officially know New Zealand's sex? I kept that part. The entire fic is gender ambiguous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ambiguous

**Author's Note:**

> In case you didn't read the summary … this was written as my attempt at smut of New Zealand without revealing his or her sex, since it's never officially been revealed. 
> 
> Also I know I referenced the wrong kind of kiwis. That's the joke.
> 
> New Zealand's POV.

When you're stuck by yourself in a meadow with nothing but the company of sheep, after a while, you start thinking some crazy things. I'd been out there with them far too long. I was slowly losing my mind. Being by oneself – surrounded by nothing but sheep, after sheep, after sheep – it was a maddening loneliness. If one knows what one means!

They say some New Zealand men can't stand it. They give up and have their way with the sheep. This is just a rumor, of course! At least, I hope. I couldn't imagine buggering a sheep. I think that would be impossible for me!

I wasn't having a good day that day. I guess because it was that time of the month. The monthly counting of the sheep! Every first of the month I do inventory of them. I count each and every one just to make sure I haven't lost any. Like sometimes Australia's dingoes eat my babies! I had to make sure they were all accounted for.

But it was very difficult to do when they kept moving around so much.

"Fluffy, get back here!" I said to one of them, grabbing her by a scruff of wool. "I can't count you if you keep – oh, you're not Fluffy, you're Serta! So sorry! Where is Fluffy? Don't tell me she's near Mary! Those two don't get along too well – oh, you're Mutton, right? Silly me! How could I forget you, dear?"

Oh yes. I was losing my mind.

But could you blame me? All alone in this vast land with nothing but identical sheep around me! Now, don't get me wrong. I love my sheep. But they are not a substitute to actual human interaction. Sure, Australia visits sometimes. And Wy, Tonga, and Hutt River pop in occasionally too. But it's not enough. Especially for a certain element of human interaction that I'd been lacking for a very long time. A very, very long time. Because my relationships with them are platonic, thus, I go without.

No wonder they say some men cave to the sheep! I understand their desperation. It'd been so long, and my hand can only hold me off for so long. It's not a proper substitute. I needed the real thing.

"Forty three … forty four … forty seven …" I hesitated as I made a tally mark on my notepad. That wasn't right … "Oh, bollocks! Now I have to start over!" I ripped the piece off and crumpled it.

I just couldn't concentrate! All I could think of was how lonely I was and how desperate I was and how horny I was and damn it looked like it'd be yet another night of masturbating the second I got back to my house, lest I cave to the sheep and—

Suddenly I noticed the sheep baaing and scurrying away. "Hmm? Where are you all going? I'm not done counting!"

I looked in the direction they fled and saw a figure. A silhouette, blotted out by the sun behind him. Him, yes, because even only as a shadow I could tell it was a male. It wasn't especially large or muscular, but it was certainly not feminine either. I suppose it could have been a woman wearing layers to hide her curves, but somehow I knew before he arrived that it was a male. I think I just have a good sense on judging others' sex! I guess it's a gift!

I started to panic. It was a rare day that I got a visitor. From the figure it certainly wasn't Australia – not big enough. It didn't quite look like the others either. I tried to think of who it could be. Even neighbouring farms were too far to walk so I doubted it was one of my citizens …

Finally he came into view, and I knew from those eyebrows it was England.

"England?" I said to one of my sheep, petting her. "Can you believe that, Chops? He hasn't visited in quite some time! What do you think he could want?"

"Baaa!" said Chops.

"He wants my sweet, sweet melons? !" I exclaimed defensively. "That just isn't right! I'm tired of people like him taking advantage of me!"

"Baaaa."

"You said it, Chops. My delicious kiwis are both a gift and a curse."

It seems that's all people want from me. Kiwis. That and to pretend I'm Middle-earth. Sorry, but there really are no elves here! Don't bother looking – you will only find more sheep!

More sheep scattered when England drew closer. I held one close to me as he approached.

"Ah, New Zealand!" he greeted when he was close. "I finally found you!"

I hugged Mutton to my chest. "Y-yes, nice to see you!"

"Been a while."

Oh, such an understatement! I hadn't seen much of England since he colonised me, many years ago. I'd seen him every now and then but generally our contact was minimal and almost entirely limited to my being in the Commonwealth.

He glanced around at my sheep, slowing returning to graze around us, now that they saw England wasn't a threat. "So … what are you up to?"

"Counting sheep." I gestured to my notepad.

"Eh? Trying to fall asleep?"

I was confused. "No, why?"

"That's what people do when they … never mind." He waved it off and I was still confused. "I was visiting with Australia on official business and thought I'd stop by. Wouldn't want to go home without tasting your delicious kiwis!"

So he was after my kiwis after all! Chops had it right. But it'd be rude to say no so …

"Of course," I replied brightly. "You can have as many as you like! But, uh, let me round up these guys back to the barn. It's getting a bit late and I don't want them out after dark."

As I herded my sheep back toward the barn, England walked a head of me amongst the flock. I started having thoughts I'd never had about him before. Like was he always that fine looking of a bloke, or did I have sheep-lonely-goggles? (Those are like beer goggles, except instead of alcohol clouding your judgement, it's desperate loneliness spawned from being stuck alone with solely sheep for too long.) I didn't know. But I did know that watching his arse the entire walk back was quite a lovely view!

I had to shake myself of the thought once we returned to the barn. England and I had never even thought about things like that about each other. Our relationship was purely platonic. I was just desperate, after all. Your mind will play tricks on you in a state like that …

We returned to the barn and I managed to usher all the sheep inside. They were baaing and clamouring and it was very loud.

"Shhhh," I hushed to them. It would be hard to speak to England with all that noise. And I needed to speak. About anything. Really. I was quite desperate for social contact.

We made small talk, and I was the happiest I'd been in so long. Finally! A conversation with someone! Talking with the sheep is so one-sided. England could actually reply to me! What a refreshing change. I didn't even care that it was a bit awkward, since it'd been so long, I was just happy to have actual company for once.

I hoped so badly he didn't notice my nervousness. I didn't want to ruin this. When I felt like my face may have been blushing, I turned away and pretended to be distracted as we conversed. I didn't want him to see.

Is it bad that I wasn't even listening to what he was saying at that point? I was turned away and off in my own world. Thinking of things I knew I shouldn't. Things I said I'd pushed out of my mind, but they just kept coming back. Things that surely only made my blush redden more. I sighed heavily as I gripped my sack, my hand out of England's view.

It was a feed sack and I was feeding the sheep. "Mmm, that's really nice, England," I said, and hoped so badly that it actually was nice because I hadn't been listening.

England watched me distribute the feed amongst the sheep. "Hungry things, aren't they?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Mmm-hmm." I still wasn't really listening. I was imagining what he'd look like wearing nothing but a wool coat and oh God what is wrong with me –

"New Zealand?" His voice sounded a bit more concerned this time. "You all right? Why won't you face me?"

Well, it's hard to look someone in the eyes when you're fantasising over them, you know? Especially when the fantasy somehow evolved to dripping kiwi juice between his legs and then licking it off. Oh – oh yes, my face was burning red then. I definitely did not face him. Instead, my hands found my nuts and I gripped them in my fingers.

The almond nuts that I liked to give to the sheep sometimes as a treat, I mean. They loved that! Almond hulls were their favourite. It made a good distraction and a reason not to face England.

"Oh, you're still feeding them?"

"Huh? Oh – y-yeah, sorry. It'll only be a little longer."

"Oh, it's quite all right. Take your time."

I was glad he said that. I wanted to savour my time fantasising to his presence and voice as long as I could. All these thoughts would be excellent to masturbate to once he left.

… yes, that'd how desperate I was. I get excited about thoughts and masturbating. It is a lonely life I live …

Now my fantasies had become even more obscene. It involved England forcing me to a lick salt tack, shaving each other with the sheep shearing instruments, then eventually bending me over a paddock door and having his way with me, ramming into my body like – well – a ram. They are powerful animals.

I was feeling squirmy at that point, but did my best to control it. The blood wasn't just flushing my face anymore. By then it was pooling south, warming up my nether regions. Still turned away from England, I reached for my big jugs.

Of water. Those sheep were thirsty!

"A-almost done," I said as I filled up the bins.

England was standing so awkwardly. I wished he'd find a place to sit or at least lean against something. Instead he just stood, a few feet away from one of the piles of hay. He was making me uncomfortable. The way he just stood there, glancing around, looking around the barn and the sheep and me, maybe.

"Been so long since I've had one of your kiwis," England said, trying to fill in the awkward silence with something. "I was hoping to take some back with me. I'd like to try cooking something with them. You have any good recipes? I'm an excellent chef, you know."

I swallowed and replied, "Yeah."

"Heh. Yeah to having recipes or yeah to me being an excellent chef?"

"Both, of course!"

Yes, that is how desperate I was! I even said England was a good chef! This is a new level of pathetic …

"Splendid," said England proudly. "I'll have to let you taste my work then."

I licked my lips. Oh I was more than willing to taste more than that of his …

England gasped as I grabbed myself a handful of my balls.

Balls of hay. Um. I mean bales. Yeah.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you!" I said as I spread the hay. I wanted my sheep to have fresh piles to sleep on!

"It's all right. I – uh – was distracted."

I was watching my sheep finally start to calm down. They were lying down and snuggling up in the hay. "Oh? What by?"

"You, um …" England hesitated. "Your face is really flushed."

"IS IT? !" I blurted out. BOLLOCKS. I'd forgotten to keep hiding it! I was so busy with the hay and the sheep and … well …

"Yes …" England looked away. "Are you upset or something? I didn't mean to impose. I'm a gentleman and we don't do that."

"No, no! I'm just – I'm hot! Yeah – it's quite stuffy in here, d-don't you think?"

It wasn't a complete lie. I was getting hot. Especially in my underpants …

England shrugged. "A little, I guess."

"You can have a seat, you know!" I was trying to sound friendly. But I think it came off sounding a bit crazy. "It's fine!"

England started backing up awkwardly. "Oh – yeah. I didn't even think about that."

"Sorry! I should have offered! Actually there aren't good places to sit in the barn –"

"No! It's fine!"

The awkwardness. It was palpable. So, so palpable. And all I wanted to do was palpate something else …

"Fuck!" England suddenly exclaimed. As he was backing up, he'd tripped over one of my sheep. He landed on his arse on a big pile of hay.

"Chops!" I scolded. "Bad sheep! Are you okay, England?"

England was now reclining in the hay pile, looking a bit startled. "Um – yeah. Just took me by surprise."

Lying back like that I had a good view of his crotch. I had to quickly look away. I couldn't see anything through his pants, but damn if my imagination didn't run wild when I saw it.

England was looking away too. "You know … umm … I think I'm going to take a rain check on those kiwis."

I allowed myself to look at him again. "Huh?"

"I … I think I'm going to go." He shifted to get up but -

"NO, WAIT!" I screeched.

England plopped back into the hay, eyes wide. "New Zealand?" He sounded shocked. "What the hell is going on with you today? I've never seen you like this … "

I didn't realise it until I saw him notice it. But I was trembling. I was so scared he was going to leave. My monthly visitor was making me crazy! (England was my monthly visitor, as he visited on the first of the month.) He just had to stay. I wasn't ready for him to leave yet.

"Please don't leave, England!" I begged. "I'm so lonely!"

England tensed. "Eh?"

"I'm by myself all the time and I'm starved for human contact and I just can't take it anymore and I've been going insane and I even pictured myself licking kiwi juice off your naked body and … and, and …. "

… shit.

England arched a very large eyebrow. "D-did you say … licking kiwi juice off … uh …"

Mmm. Picturing that delicious mental image was making me wet. My mouth wet, I mean.

I looked away shamefully, face flushed red. "It's just been so long." I sighed and hung my head. How pathetic was this … admitting my lonely desperation. At least I kept the wondering about giving in to the sheep part to myself!

"Do you …" England was staring hard at a piece of hay. "… have any kiwi juice?"

With those words, I became stiff. My muscles became stiff, I mean. I froze. "Um … no. A-all my kiwis are back at the house, which is a little walk from here." God, I was so awkward. I was quite rusty with this kind of thing.

"I see …" Now I was seeing a side of England I hadn't seen before … "I only ask because … well … damn if it hasn't been quite a while for me, too."

I was still frozen. But I felt a warm rush of something. Something going south …

"Heh," said England. "It's called Splendid Isolation but it's not always very splendid, yeah?"

"Uh."

I must have stood there not doing anything for longer than socially acceptable because finally England sighed and patted his lap.

Then I wasn't frozen anymore. Then I was practically squirming in my britches. "Does … does this mean we get to shag? !" I asked abruptly.

England blushed. "If you want …"

IT WAS ABOUT BLOODY TIME!

I mean, I was pleased with this offer.

I walked over to England, avoiding the sheep in my path. Then I was standing above him, looming, looking down at his blushing face. His face was at my crotch level, and I wished so badly he'd reach out and tug these pants off of me, then use his mouth on me, and then …

England pulled me from my fantasy by taking me by the wrist and yanking. I fell into his lap. Awkwardly. I quickly sat back as not to crush him with my weight.

My God. It felt so good just to have some actual human contact. To feel a warm body sitting beneath me. His lap was so inviting, our thighs pressed together. It wasn't skin on skin, as we both still had our pants on, but I could feel the warm flesh beneath me and it was exactly what I needed after so long by myself.

England leaned back to make room, and I followed. I straddled over him, which was a little disconcerting at first because I lost much of the warm sensation of his body. But then I felt his hands start to rub at my backside, and I felt a lot better.

"I always thought you had a nice arse," said England, smirking.

"Yours isn't bad either!" I replied with a big grin.

England groped harder at the fleshy cheeks. His fingers cupped and then dug in possessively. I gasped silently. I was arching back into his touch. My limbs and back stretched like a cat, pushing and grinding back into his hands.

"Oh." England sounded coy. "You like that, huh?"

To be honest, I'd like pretty much anything. Just the feeling of someone else's hands on me was so amazing, so arousing. I'd waited for this for too long.

England slipped his hand under my waistband. His fingers fondled at the bare skin underneath. I gasped again, this time audibly. He was gentler then. Running his fingers over the heated skin, like he was teasing me, and I squirmed for more contact.

He chuckled and pulled his hands away. I whimpered for more touches. I didn't want to be without the feeling of some part of him touching mine. He seemed to notice my desperation, and went to grab for the bottom of my shirt. I helped him and together we pulled it off and over my head.

When it was tossed aside, England was eagerly rolling my nipples between his fingers. One to each hand, they stiffened under his greedy ministrations. I felt one being pinched and I whined, but was cut off. The hay was rustling and we were moving again. England was positioning himself to reach me. He latched on to one of my nipples with his mouth and I felt his tongue flicker over it.

"Oh …" I whimpered, curling my fingers into his hair.

Normally I didn't even like my nipples played with very much, but in the heat of the moment, it was so damn erotic. That or I was so starved that a warm mouth anywhere on my body was going to feel good. Probably the latter …

England moved to give my other nipple a lick, but I stopped him by gently pushing him back.

"Hmm?" he said, confused.

I pushed him until he was lying back on the hay again. "Let … let me do some stuff too."

I was crawling down and off him, arching my back as I did. England looked down my body and I felt him staring at my arse again. Not that I minded. When I backed up far enough, I grabbed the top of his pants and unzipped. He wriggled his hips and we tugged down his pants together. Our pace was getting more hurried. We were nearly frantic as we ripped off the clothes and threw them aside. His boxers were quickly peeled and tossed in seconds. We just couldn't undress fast enough.

"Baaa."

The boxers had landed on one of the sheep's heads.

"Oh." England looked embarrassed. "I almost forgot they were here. Um …"

"What's wrong? !" I asked very quickly. I was too distracted by England's half-hard erection to concentrate too well.

"… it's a bit strange, isn't it? Doing it in front of the sheep? It doesn't feel right …"

Yeah, he had a point. But I was horny and we'd gone this far – I was not going to stop.

"Heh," I replied. "Let them watch."

He gaped a little, and then suddenly he gaped a lot. Because I grabbed his erection in my hand. Oh, how long it'd been since I'd felt something like that. I had to revel in it. The warm, firm flesh in my hand, growing stiffer the longer I gently palmed it. I rolled it a little, like I was weighing it, and judging it. It was the perfect size – big, but not too big, and a solid thickness, and all I could think about was how damn good that was going to feel when I finally got to put it in.

England was breathing hard by then. He was fully erect and probably wondering just what the hell I was doing. Just holding and admiring his cock like a piece of artwork. A little embarrassing, but you must understand, it had just been so long. An opportunity like this needed to be savoured.

"Like what you see?" he asked sheepishly.

… wow, I really should avoid that adverb. "Sheepishly." Does not sound right given my situation …

God, I was blushing so hard. I'd stared a little too long … "Y-yeah …" I replied, looking away, though I really didn't want to.

"Just looking and fondling …" he breathed. "You're teasing me, aren't you?"

"What? No, I was … uh … distracted …"

He was going to say something else, but I cut him off by making him inhale sharply. I gripped him harder and stroked. His head fell back against the hay with a soft "Ahhh …" noise. It excited me to hear him make a sound like that, so I pumped him harder. His foreskin slid back and forth as my fingers worked, pausing every now and again to slow to a stop at the tip. I'd tease it for a second with my finger – it made him make the most arousing sounding groan – then resume stroking again.

I couldn't stand it much more. My own pants needed to come off. Now. I suppose England noticed how squirmy I'd gotten, because he reached up and palmed between my legs. I pushed my hips toward him, grinding myself into his hand. God, it was the first touch from anyone but my own hand I'd had in so long. Too long. Such a wonderful, warm friction …

"Heh heh …" he chuckled, then reached for my button.

My pants and underwear were shoved down. We hurriedly pulled them off, and they joined the rest of our clothes strewn about randomly on the barn floor. Or maybe on another sheep. I was too turned on to care at that point.

"Baaaa."

I ignored whatever sheep that was.

I was in England's lap again, with my legs spread over his. His hand returned to between my legs. He rubbed and I keened such an embarrassing noise. I couldn't help it. This was what I'd fantasised about for so long, those so many lonely nights pleasuring myself, all alone. Someone else's warm touch instead of my own hand. It made such a difference. I couldn't help but cry out.

England seemed amused and moved his hand quicker. I returned the favour by stroking him again. We lie there for a little bit like that – just masturbating each other and listening to the pleasurable sounds we were able to force out of each other. But I felt like I was going to come already, and judging by England's increasingly erratic breathing, I think he was getting close too. So I released him and sat back.

England forced himself to calm his breathing and said, "You ready?"

And oh God was I ready. I was ready years ago. Yes, years. I said it'd been a while, and I meant it. This was so overdue.

Even though I wanted nothing more than to impale myself on him, I resisted. I knew that since it'd been so long, this was going to be a tight fit. To ease this, I decided to slick England up. I knew he wouldn't mind. Not when I was using saliva.

"Ahh …!" he moaned sharply when he felt my mouth envelop him. He hadn't expected that. I smiled around his cock. "Fuck …" he whimpered.

His hands were rustling my hair, carding through my stubborn side curls that never budged. I didn't notice until then how damp my hair had become with sweat …

I'll be honest, I wasn't very experienced at giving blowjobs. But England seemed to appreciate a warm, wet mouth anyway, if those gasps and noises were anything to go by, so I was happy to oblige. I licked down his shaft, trying to push out and leave as much saliva as possible. It was so much spit it started to dribble off his cock, but I caught it with my mouth, and enveloped his length completely again.

His fingers balled in my hair. "Shit …" he panted.

But it hurt my throat so I let him slide out of my mouth. I gave one last teasing lick at the tip, toying with the little slit – oh yes, I remember he liked that very much – and pulled back. His cock practically glistened, even in the dim light of the barn, with slick saliva.

I knew I'd better hurry before it dried and apparently England knew too, because I saw him lick a finger and reach for me.

I swallowed hard as I felt the finger worm itself into me. He was just testing, to make sure it wouldn't be painfully tight, but I couldn't help but squirm. It'd been so long, I'd forgotten what that feeling felt like. To have another's warm digit inside me. I rocked against it, encouraging him on.

He chuckled and withdrew his hand. "I take it you're ready then? You don't want to go for two fingers?"

"No need," I said very quickly. He barely even finished his sentence.

"Heh …"

I looked so desperate, didn't I? Well, that's what happens when you're physically starved …

I straddled my hips over his lap. I was breathing really hard and there was sweat dripping down my forehead and chest but I didn't care. Because I needed him in me so badly that I could think of nothing else in that moment. I grabbed his cock below me, holding it tight by the base. I held it up as I slowly lowered my hips. We both gasped together as he entered me. Each pressing inch was warmer, tighter, stretching me, and then he was fully inside me. The feeling of such total fullness made me cry out, a sharp yelping, "OHH!"

God. It felt so good to be filled. I'd forgotten what a wonderful feeling I was missing.

After a few moments reeling in this sensation (England too – I suppose he was adjusting from the sudden heat and tightness) we both knew we had to move. It was funny because we both started at the same time. England thrust up at the same time I bucked down. We repeated and kept going, meeting each other's thrusts.

I fell against him and leaned against his chest. It was so hot. His arms reached from behind and held me close. I liked that feeling – intimate and warm. God had I been deprived intimacy.

He was doing most of the work then. Thrusting up and rocking my body. I just held on for the ride, like I was riding a bucking ram. Er, never mind. I didn't mean to say that.

I was making more noise than I wanted to. But I couldn't help it. I hadn't been filled so perfectly liked this in ages — there was no way I was going to be able to hold back my moans. So my desperation was showing, but I was enjoying myself too much to care.

When he hit that sweet spot I practically sobbed into his chest. I buried my face into him and let him hit it over and over. I'm pretty sure he could tell by the way I was clawing at his skin and whimpering some of the most desperate sounds I'd ever made that it was the right spot, and he was aiming for it on purpose.

I couldn't hold on much longer. With one last cry, I came hard, sobbing his name.

He continued thrusting all the way through it. Somehow he made it drag out longer because of that, and it was one of the longest, most intense orgasms I'd ever had. I guess because it'd been so long, but I just kept coming and coming and finally I collapsed. Collapsed into a trembling pile against him. Sticky and wet and spent.

He gave me a moment to recover. Then he resumed his pace. No – no, it was faster. I could tell he was close too. He was making these noises. God, they almost sounded like choking noises, they were so intense. Then I felt him tense up, thrust quickly a few more times, and then slack. He moaned softly as he came, a quiet "Ngggh …" sound.

Then it was over. And there was nothing but the sound of us trying to catch our breath.

We stayed like them for a while. Not wanting to lose the warmth of each other's bodies. We felt so tired and spent and sated – oh, God, so so sated – that neither of us wanted to move.

But eventually we had to. England made the first move. He'd gone soft inside me. With a satisfied huff, he slid himself out.

I sighed and rolled off of him. Fighting our sore muscles, we forced ourselves to get up and find our clothes. We plucked them from the random spots on the barn floor, or in the case of a couple items, from on top of the sheep. Oops.

"Baaaa," one said. I remembered then that they'd watch the entire time. They were lowing in the background during the whole thing, actually.

"That was the best shag I've had in ages," I said bluntly but brightly as I pulled my shirt over my head.

England blushed as he picked the pieces of hay out of his pants. "… I enjoyed myself as well."

"Mmm," I replied happily. "So, do you have to leave tonight?"

England hesitated. "I suppose not. Why?"

I shook the dirt off my own pants. "Well … uh …" Why was I still so sheepish – er, no, I mean shy! – after all of what we'd just done? "I-it's just that I have some of those kiwis back at the house and … well …"

England smirked. "Did you want to indulge that fantasy of yours … and dribble kiwi juice on me and lick it off?"

I glanced away shamefully. "… yes."

There was much less hesitation and awkwardness in response than I thought there'd be. "All right," he replied.

I still couldn't look at him again. My face was burning red as I was thinking of even more things … "And … if you're up to it … well …"

"Hmm?"

"… I have some others ideas I'd like to try as well. If … if you want to, I mean!"

England grinned mischievously. "Sounds splendid. I've been known to get a little kinky every now and again."

I finally looked over to him, though trying to contain my big grin. "Yeah?"

"Heh, of course. As long as it's not something too kinky, like say, dressing me up like a sheep during or something, I'm fine with it." He chuckled. "I've heard the jokes about your country."

"…"

"… New Zealand?"

"Uh, never mind then."

(The end!)


End file.
